


Dog Teeth

by transsocuteboss



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V
Genre: Creampie, Emetophilia, M/M, Watersports, also i guess set after yuuri and sora both fail their missions, emeto, facial abuse, i wrote this when i didnt feel good can you tell, like whenever i started feeling bad id just b like time to Fuck Sora Up, vaguely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:17:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4433444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transsocuteboss/pseuds/transsocuteboss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The locker room was always where Yuuri went to do his worst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dog Teeth

The locker room was always where Yuuri went to do his worst.

Everyone was in the testing area right now. Everyone. They few other exempt elites were watching the proceedings, and if they got bored and came around for some reason a word from Yuuri would scare them off.

Yuuri was already slamming his head into the side of a locker, gripping his hair, for the way he’d grinned and said no when Yuuri told him to get on his knees.

It wasn’t very smart, Sora had to admit, but the rush of adrenaline he felt when he saw Yuuri’s expression change was something he hadn’t experienced in a while.

Sora slid to his knees, a little dizzy from the impact and rigid and pliant all the same in Yuuri’s hands.

“Are you ready to be good now?”

Sora smirked up at him, closed-mouth, kind of feeling like he was silently asking to be killed.

Yuuri slammed his head against the lockers again, this time grabbing inside his slackened mouth to push his jaw open.

“Put your hands down or I’m breaking something.”

Sora huffed as well as he could with two hands holding his mouth wide, tucking his hands safely behind his back.

Yuuri moved one of his hands, and Sora was relieved for just a moment, until that hand pushed completely into his mouth, pushing into his throat and making him gag.

Yuuri moved the opposite hand, though, undoing his pants, painfully slow. Sora could hardly breathe. Yuuri was only half-hard after all of that, pausing to kick his pants and underwear out of the way.

Yuuri took the time to rip the tie out of his hair, pushing the hand in Sora’s mouth forward and bringing out another gag. His nails dug into the soft flesh there slightly, and Sora’s eyes watered.

Finally, finally Yuuri took his hand out of Sora’s mouth. Sora worked his jaw, trying to swallow as much drool that had started forming as he could, wishing he could wipe it away with his hands. But Yuuri was always serious when he said he would break a bone in punishment. He didn’t want to go and forget now before anything had even started.

Yuuri grabbed handfuls of Sora’s hair with his spit-slicked hands, pulling him forward.

“Relax,” he said, right before pulling Sora forward, pushing himself down his throat until Sora’s nose was pressed against the curls of his pubic hair. He was staring up at him with big watering eyes, hungry for praise through his quiet choking and gagging. Yuuri pulled him off without saying anything, watching him spit up mucus with something like disappointment in his eyes.

“You’re gonna throw up for me, right?”

Sora nodded, trying to keep his gaze and Yuuri’s connected. But Yuuri was concentrated on Sora’s hair, yanking him to the side by his handfuls of it

Yuuri pushed back into Sora’s throat, faster this time, trying to push up in angle. Sora wretched in earnest, almost forgetting to watch his teeth.

Even though all the air was ripped out of him, Yuuri only pulled back a little before shoving all the way back in, and then repeated the motion, fucking his throat even as Sora kicked futilely against the concrete floor, not daring to move his arms even as his vision went fuzzy.

Sora gasped and spit up as Yuuri pulled out, pushing him backward against one of the wooden benches, dragging him by his hair until his back was across the bench and head was upside down. His wrists ached underneath him, and he squirmed just a little, momentarily out of Yuuri’s grasp.

It didn’t take much in that position, with Yuuri’s foot digging into his stomach and his thumb sloppily pressed against Sora’s throat. When it came up, Sora tried to lift his head, so it would fall to his front or side, but Yuuri yanked his head back by his hair, pushing so the sick fell mostly in Sora’s face.

Sora blew hard through his nose, trying to breathe through it despite it burning as bad as his throat.

His eyes watered, and he found himself sobbing as Yuuri positioned himself to do it again.

Yuuri pulled Sora’s head forward hard, and Sora’s vomit and sobbing made everything ten times worse than before. He gasped and gagged around Yuuri’s dick, his heart skipping beats, like it was angry at him for allowing this to happen to his body. His arms were firmly pinned under him, so he couldn’t push Yuuri away if he wanted to.

“Keep your eyes open.”

His eyes opened in sheer surprise. Yuuri didn’t sound like he was about to die, which was strange to hear in Sora’s current state. In fact, he didn’t sound that affected at all. When Sora looked up, there was a pink tint to his face, and his eyes were actually concentrated on his face.

With the obstructions on his face and his rapidly decreasing air supply, it was hard to keep the eye contact Yuuri was giving, but it didn’t last very long anyway.

Sora definitely felt more coming up, harsher this time, and for a horrifying split second he thought Yuuri might push down against it, not letting up.

But as the thought flashed in his mind, Yuuri pulled back, letting Sora drop back across the bench and throw up on himself again, and then cough and sputter and desperately try to sit up.

Yuuri pulled Sora upright by his shirt, kissing his cheeks so sweetly Sora lost his breath all over again.

“You’re so cute like this, Sora.”

“Th-” He coughed, trying to avoid Yuuri’s hands as he spit up more. “Thank you.”

Yuuri undid Sora’s pants with one hand, pushing in and chuckling at what he found. He was wet, and when Yuuri touched him he spread his legs, fighting to not push forward.

“You’re as disgusting as me,” Yuuri said, a little like a proud parent, sliding his fingers inside Sora. “You can use your hands now.”

Sora let them drop down by his sides, not sure what to do with them now that they were available.

Yuuri gave him one thing right away. He finally let go of Sora’s shirt, making him slap his hands down on the wood for balance while he yanked off his pants.

He took his time taking off his shirt, Sora still catching his breath. He tried to look at Yuuri instead of the nasty floor, grabbing handfuls of his shirt Yuuri left on him. It was filthy and damp, but Sora resisted pulling it off and ruining all of Yuuri’s hard work.

Besides, this was just foreplay.

Yuuri kissed him again, this time on the mouth, and all the calming down Sora had just done fell apart. His kisses were rare, sweet, and they always meant trouble for Sora.

Yuuri licked at Sora’s lips, gagging almost imperceptibly. But he was smiling, cruel, and Sora wasn’t surprised when he yanked him to his feet by his hair.

Yuuri put a hand around his neck, dragging him to the side and kissing him again. “Shower time.”

The worst part was that Sora had no idea what he was planning. He knew this couldn’t be it. Even if it was slippery and uncomfortable to Sora, simple shower sex was something reserved for people Yuuri actually liked.

Sora was startled by his own thought. Yuuri liked him, didn’t he? He was small and cute and he could take whatever Yuuri gave him. He had to like him.

Yuuri shoved him down onto the ground without warning. Sora caught himself, but was thrown off balance again when Yuuri yanked his hips back.

The shower room had a mixed sent of mildew, cleaning products, and young boys. Sora’s skin stung when Yuuri pressed his cheek into the ground, and he breathed in pine and bleach.

Yuuri slid inside easily, slapping the small of Sora’s back. It was a hard strike, but his voice was playful. “That really turned you on, huh? Maybe I should do it all the time.”

“N-”

Yuuri pushed down hard on his head, and Sora realized he wasn’t moving. He concentrated hard on not squirming.

He was confused, briefly, when he felt warmth spreading inside him. Yuuri hadn’t come, Sora knew what that felt like.

“No!” Sora tried to pitch himself forward, dragging his face against the floor as Yuuri pressed down with more of his weight. The smell of urine was strong, and it was making him dizzy. “Stop!”

Sora grabbed at the hand holding his head down, trying to pull it off.

Yuuri laughed, just a slight twinge in the sound giving any indication that doing this while hard was hurting him physically.

“Touch yourself.”

“No! Stop it!”

Yuuri’s grip on the back of his neck was firm, and he used his other hand to grab Sora’s drawing arm. He pushed his hips forward, urine gushing down Sora’s thighs rather than tricking.

Sora knew exactly what he meant by the action, especially when he let his arm go easily, picking up the pace of his thrusts as Sora started rubbing at himself half-heartedly, feeling sicker than before.

Yuuri stopped soon enough, but it didn’t make what was inside him and on his legs and pooled around his knees go away.

Yuuri flipped him over, everything on the floor soaking into his lower back and shirt.

And then Yuuri kissed his neck, and Sora forgot about what was progressively getting all over him, if only for a moment.

Yuuri put a hand on his stomach and came inside him. Sora didn’t bother to make a noise of complaint, or even feel anything about it at all. Yuuri was finished, and now he’d leave him alone.

“Get up.”

Or not.

Sora’s palms pushed into the filthy floor, and he willed himself to comply as fast as possible, which wasn’t very fast.

The liquid sliding down his thighs almost went by unnoticed, confusion and anticipation distracting him. Yuuri got impatient and simply pulled him to the side on his knees.

Sora didn’t realize what he was doing until the cold water of the shower splashed at him just barely and Yuuri was pulling his shirt off, more like a nurse than a lover. Half of what Yuuri had done in the locker room slowly made it's way down the drain. He stayed rigid in his kneeling position when Yuuri stepped away, throwing his shirt to the side and rooting around in a locker.

“At ease.”

Sora didn’t know if he was joking or not, but he hesitantly lowered himself to sit on his heels.

Yuuri dumped dusty gym clothes onto a bench. It took Sora a moment to puzzle out that they must be for him, since Yuuri's clothes were just fine. He'd made sure of that. Sora gagged, coughed, the tastes in his mouth becoming more noticeable now that he was just sitting.

He didn’t speak when Yuuri pulled him back into the direct spray of the water, and he could hardly breath when Yuuri hunkered down, the water wetting his hair and sliding across his shoulders, and pressed his tongue between Sora’s legs.


End file.
